Warning(s): Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, etc.

He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't become his father, that he'd never raise a hand to a defenseless child or beat a woman. He might've been a psychopathic monster, but he liked to think that he had some morals.

The Joker sat at the head of his daughter's bed, long, spider-thin fingers brushing wisps of honey-golden hair away from her sleeping face. Even in the absolute darkness of the bedroom, he could still make out the ugly greenish-brown of the misshapen bruise on her cheek, a painful reminder of the fact that he couldn't deny who - or what - he was.

He hadn't become his father. This, whatever the hell he was, was one-hundred times worse.

He couldn't remember what she'd done, not that it mattered - whatever it had been certainly hadn't warranted such a violent response. The back of his hand had connected with her cheek and sent her sprawling, and he remembered the gut-wrenching whimper she'd made when she hit the ground. She'd lain there for a few moments, motionless, before she'd started to cry.

"Mel..." those long fingers snaked down to the child's tiny shoulder, his hand so large he could close it around the entire socket. He shook her gently, "Hey, wake up kiddo."

Large, tired blue eyes slowly fluttered open, "Mmm... Daddy?"

"The one and only." He flashed her a small grin, showing off his impressive row of silver crowns. "How's Daddy's favorite girl feeling?"

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, before sitting up slowly. "'m sleepy, Daddy." As if to prove her point, her tiny, rosebud mouth opened wide as she yawned. "'cuse me."

"I know ya are, doll. But I meant your cheek." She blinked slowly, her expression confused - it was as if she'd completely forgotten what had happened just a few hours ago. "Here, this should make it feel better." He pressed a small bag of frozen peas to the swollen cheek, instructing her to hold it there.

"It doesn't hurt too bad, Daddy. I promise." She reassured, holding the heavy bag in her tiny hands. "T-That's real cold, though."

The Joker knew that it hurt her more than she'd ever admit. What sickened him was that it made him feel better, seeing her sprawled out on the floor like that, too terrified to move. He'd wanted to hit her again, and again, and again - until he knew she wouldn't be getting back to her feet. It reminded him of when he'd backhand Harley for stepping out of line, how sometimes the only way to remind her of her place was to physically put her there.

But his daughter was supposed to be different. She didn't chose to be with him out of blind adoration and, though he would never admit it aloud, he was terrifed that she'd grow to hate him. He wouldn't say he loved her - not when he'd spent Harley's entire pregnancy threatening to kill them both, or when he kicked Harley and their two-week-old daughter to the curb because they'd grown to be liabilities - but he'd grown accustomed to her.

Kind of like Harley, their daughter had become a fixture in his life and he found the idea of living without her to be... unsettling. And any one of his henchmen who were unfortunate to stick around after Harley's departure knew just how well the Joker was handling life without his hench wench.

The Joker's dark eyes flickered over to the bedside table, where the remains of something unidentifiable had been carefully arranged. After staring at it for a moment, the Joker recognized it as the item she was trying to give him when he backhanded her. It must've broken when she'd fallen...

"What's this?" He asked, picking up the pieces of what looked like a piece of pottery.

"It was... It was supposed to be a present for you. But don't... don't worry 'bout it now. It's all broken." She said softly, dejectedly. After a moment of silence, she hurried to add, "It's my fault, though! I shouldn't have disturbed Daddy's quiet time."

"I think it's safe to say that someone learned their lesson." She nodded hurriedly. "And ya know what? I think it looks better this way. It has more... personality."

She considered this for a moment, before venturing hesitantly, "You really think so?"

"Would I ever lie to ya, kiddo?" He hoped she wouldn't answer that. Wisely, she didn't. "Now, waddaya say ya scooch on over and let me tell ya one of my world famous bedtime stories?"

Her blue eyes lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, "Will it have lots of 'plosions?"

"What good punchline is complete without an explosion?"

As he launched into a story detailing his latest heist, tweaked here and there to resemble the world's most gruesome fairytale, he thought that he did have something to thank Harley for after all. He would never be father of the year, but he was a father - and that was a challenge perhaps even more fascinating than unraveling the unruly bat. Because now, the desired outcome was no longer to win... but to survive.

Suddenly, Mel turned to him, curiousity apparent in her bright blue eyes. "Hey, Daddy?"

"What it is, little girl?" He humored her, allowing himself to be momentarily side-tracked from the story.

"What's a pimp?" She asked, in all seriousness.

The Joker nearly choked. His hands tightened on the tiny girl's shoulders and she whimpered, suddenly afraid she'd angered him again. "And where exactly did ya hear that word, kiddo?"

"One of my friends' daddies saw you on the TV with your coat and said that you looked like a really slimy pimp. The kind that hits his girls." She recited, absently rubbing her cheek. "You're not a pimp, are you, Daddy?"

"No, I'm not." Well, that was one he'd certainly never heard before. "And ya don't need to know what that word means. I'll tell ya when you're older." Like that would ever happen. Before she could ask anymore questions, he launched back into the story.

He had a feeling he was going to enjoy ensuring that man never spewed lies about him again a little too much.

A/N: So, this story is based off of Jared Leto's Joker, with Nolanverse backstory. Harley left, exchanging her freedom for leaving her child behind. The threat of her returning and taking the child away from the Joker is always looming, hence why he's so worried about her hating him/wanting to leave him.

I'm thinking about writing a multi-chaptered fic set in the new Suicide Squad verse where the Joker was thrown in Arkham and his daughter was taken in by the Bat. Without Harley or his daughter, he sinks even further into madness until deciding he'll have them back, one way or another. What do you guys think?